


In Perpetuum Fratres

by sanctuary_for_all



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, But also a fix-it, Gen, Happy for a given value of Supernatural, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:32:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are an asshole," Sam breathed against his shirt, voice raw. "An undead, self-sacrificial asshole. It's good you're functionally immortal, because it's going to be centuries before I forgive you for this."</p><p>Wish-fulfillment for Season 10</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Perpetuum Fratres

**Author's Note:**

> I desperately, violently need Sam and Cas to know that Dean is once again back among the land of the mobile. Since everything we've heard about season 10 makes it clear that isn't going to happen anytime soon, I wrote this. 
> 
> I know it won't happen like this. But oh, I want it to.

Sam could take care of himself.

Dean watched the fight from the secrecy of the nearby shadows, telling himself that for the hundredth time. Yes, he was up against six demons, but Sam was smart. Not smart enough to stop chasing the monster that used to be his brother, but smart enough to take these assholes out. Besides, adding a seventh demon sure as hell wasn't going to help matters.

Right?

The demons were getting closer. Sam was holding them off as best he could, his fighting style far more vicious than it used to be – the darkness inside Dean approved – but it was sloppy. Desperate. Ragged. Dean could analyze the fight dispassionately, as if that were anyone else out there fighting instead of Sam. As if it were anyone else out there who was inevitably going to lose.

 _To h_ —

Dean winced, cutting off the thought. _Shit_ , he corrected himself. The other two swearwords were no longer on the "approved for use" list.

A second later, he vanished from the shadows and reappeared in between Sam and the demons. He lifted the blade, feeling its hunger rise up inside him, and tried very hard not to think about the look that was probably on Sam's face right now. He was a demon. He wasn't supposed to care about that sort of thing anymore.  "Hi, boys."

The demons all took a step back, staring at him. Then the biggest one broke into a wide, shit-eating smile. "Welcome to the family, Winchester. Wanna help us say hello to your baby brother?"

Dean smiled back. "Wrong answer." He didn't know what it looked like now – he'd never dared try it, the few times he'd been brave enough to look at a mirror – but the demon's own smile melted into pants-pissing terror.

The fight was as quick and brutal as it always was. The blade was easier to deal with, now that he was a demon, but unless there was an innocent nearby he mostly didn't fight it anymore. There was no reason to try to hold onto himself anymore – whatever was inside of him was gone, and all he could do for Sam and Cas was stay far, far away from them.

That, and figure out how to die for good.

Until he managed that, however, escape was the only option. Once the last body fell, he turned just long enough to make sure Sam was still standing. That was it, then he could disappear and Sam would finally—

The thought was cut off when a fist crashed into his jaw.

He staggered a little, surprise managing what human strength no longer could. Sam was advancing on him again, his expression one of pure fury, and Dean took a step back. Maybe this was for the best – he had enough control now that Sam would be at no risk from the blade, and one punch from the thing that used to be his brother might be enough to finally convince Sam that there was nothing more for him here. Sam's arm raised again, and he braced himself for the next punch. "I can't be killed, Sam, so don't—"

The thought disappeared when he was dragged into a bone-crushing hug.

"You are an _asshole_ ," Sam breathed against his shirt, voice raw. "An undead, self-sacrificial _asshole_. It's good you're functionally immortal, because it's going to be _centuries_ before I forgive you for this."

Dean froze, the spasm of pain in his chest so sharp that it felt like someone had reached inside him and yanked out his supposedly dead heart. His arms moved around Sam completely against his will, the instinct to comfort his brother lasting even beyond death, and for just a second Dean could almost let himself imagine that he was a real boy again....

He yanked himself away, hard. "You idiot!" he shouted, staggering backward until he was out of arm's reach. "I'm not your brother, I'm a _demon_! I'm what Crowley would be if he had rage issues and ever got his balls back. You can't even _trust_ me, and you sure as shit shouldn't be _hugging_ me."

Sam just glared at him, his expression hard even though his eyes were wet. "If you were a normal demon, you wouldn't have gone anywhere," he snapped. "You would have stayed in the bunker, pretended everything was okay, and then killed me or stolen my soul the minute my back was turned. You would be telling me _to_ trust you." His voice was rising with each word. "My _brother_ , on the other hand, would immediately decide he couldn't trust _himself_ and disappear _without telling me he technically wasn't dead anymore_!"

The words rocked Dean. He wanted to argue, needed to, but he couldn't think of a single thing to refute what his brother had said.

Sam must have seen it on his face, because his own expression cracked. "You don't even _think_ , do you? You _asshole_." He scrubbed a hand across his face, infinitely tired. "Come on. Crowley says you've been avoiding him as much as you have me, but as much as I hate it we'll need him to help us find Cain. I'm not sure we'll be able to do anything, but at least that way we'll have—"

Dean caught his arm as Sam moved past. "Don't." He hated how raw his own voice sounded. "I'm not savable, Sam. Not now."

Sam's glare sharpened again. "You are the _last_ person who gets to decide that." Jaw still set, he glanced up. "Cas!"

 _Shit._ Dean let go of Sam's arm as if he'd been burned. "No," he tried, hating the panic that rose up in his chest. "You don't have to—"

He heard the rustle of wings behind him, and in that moment he felt more afraid than he had in a very long time.

Seeing it, Sam's expression softened. "He knows, Dean," Sam said quietly. "I told him."

Slowly, Dean turned around. Cas looked ragged, and when his eyes met Dean's they widened. The angel took an involuntary step back, something painful spasming across his face, and Dean flinched and closed his eyes.

Then he felt trenchcoat-clad arms fling themselves around him. "I will punch you later," Cas murmured in his ear, pulling Dean into a hug that rattled even his demon strength. A moment later, a second pair of arms wrapped around them both.

For awhile, there was only silence. Then Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell, became only the third demon in recorded history to ever cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my original short fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


End file.
